


The Pain That Haunts Us

by kitkat0723



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Episode 5x02, F/M, Felicity is still dealing with Havenrock, Olicity is still broken up, hurt comfort, no happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-14
Updated: 2016-10-14
Packaged: 2018-08-22 08:25:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8279390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitkat0723/pseuds/kitkat0723
Summary: Felicity is slow coming apart at the seams about Havenrock, especially after the stuff Rag Man said. Oliver will always be there for his girl. No matter what time.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first Olicity ish...Fanfic. Based on the part where Felicity is listening to Rag Man talk about Havenrock to the CEO of Amertek. Our favorite duo is still separated. I have faith they'll be back together soon though.

She’s listening on the com like she always is when Oliver is out. So she hears rag man tell the story of Genises day. It still hurts. All these months later. She suppose it always will. It’s like something’s crushing her bones. After Oliver screams out for help, Felicity leaves the lair for a minute, so she doesn’t hear Oliver’s converstation with him. She just needed a minute. She walks outside without her jacket. The air isn’t cold enough for her hot skin. She can still see it like it was yesterday. Being in that room, side by side with her father. Lyla screaming orders at her. Hitting the button and watching Havenrock explode. Felicity puts her hands over her ears, tries to throttle it down. She’s dealing. She has to. She has a job to do. She takes a few deep breaths and wipes the tears from under her lenses. Goes back in. Oliver doesn’t know she stepped away from the com. That’s not much like her either. 

            That night, when she gets back to the loft, she kicks off her shoes. She goes right for the half empty bottle of wine. As she pouring it, her phone signal’s a text. She sighs. Right now she just wants to be alone. It’s Billy, asking if he can come over. He has his own key, anyway.  _ ‘Oliver’s key,’ _ Her mind screams and she shakes her head. She doesn’t want to think about it. She tells Billy she just wants to be alone. He agrees and tells her goodnight. She takes her wine over to the couch and sinks down into it, drawing her knees up under her. She lets the tears fall then. All those people. All those lives. All her fault. Oliver would tell her it isn’t. But it doesn’t matter. She still thinks it is. She’s killed thousands with the tap of a finger. The Keyboard she uses everyday, her saving grace, her solace, led her to kill thousands. And only one survivor. Hell bent on vengence. Would he come for her next? When he finds out it was her that directed the missle. How would he do it? Her hands are shaking, so she sets the wine down, burrows more into the couch. She can’t quite bring herself to go up the stairs. The tears are still falling. She cries herself to sleep. And wakes hours later. Her breath coming out in gasps and pants. The nightmare still chasing her. She’s sweating, still in the dress she wore. She gets shakily to her feet, makes her way upstairs. She heads for the bathroom, sick as the last time she got seriously drunk, with Oliver. She shakes her head, which only makes things worse but she has to chase this away. She’s supposed to be getting better, not worse. How long until the dreams stop? She turns the shower on hot and full, strips and steps under the spray. She hopes the headache she has goes away and fast. She scrubs and scrubs, the images still haunting her. 

             When she’s done, she goes right to the bedroom, and the bottom drawer of her dresser. She pulls out the pair of sweats and the shirt there. Wipes more tears away. It was her last connection to him, one she couldn’t give up. She slips into Oliver’s t-shirt, impossibly large on her small frame. She hugs herself a little then, slips into the sweats. They’re bound to fall off, but right now, it’s what she needed. It was like being in his arms again, except it wasn’t. She crawls into bed, wrapped in Oliver’s clothes. The clocks blinking back at her 4 :00 am. She shrugs and burrows back into the pillows, pulls the blanket up to her chin. She figures she has a few more hours before the alarm wakes her, prays no dreams haunt her. She closes her eyes, praying the images won’t come, knowing they might. 

            The day is full, just how she likes it to keep her mind off things. She pitches Curtis’ idea to investor after investor. If she gets the start up cash, her and Curtis won’t have to worry anymore. When that’s done, she goes to fuel up on more coffee, grabs her purse and heads for the lair. She’s been there a couple of hours before Oliver comes down. He’s dressed in his Mayor suit, all pressed and ready. She turns towards the computer hoping he won’t notice. He asks her what she’s got. Nothing so far that needs the Green Arrow’s attention. He just smiles and nods, heads back upstairs. 

             Hours later, they’re walking down the stairs, and he asks a simple question. 

       “Are you okay?” It catches her off guard, makes her jump a little, but she’s quick to reply. 

     “I’m fine.” She can see it in his eyes. He wants to press. He doesn’t. She breathes a sigh of relief that he doesn’t, but her heart is heavy. He opens up more that night. About his time before he came back to Star City. His time with the Bratva. 

           She wants to touch. Just a hand on his arm for comfort like she used to do. There’s so much to say. So she says what’s been inside her all this time.    
 “I was in Awe of you.” He sends her a look, one she knows all too well. She lets it go. 

              That night, his words echo through her mind. She tries to sleep but can’t. She heads downstairs to the couch. Plagued by the same images. It’s always the same. 

_ Her fingers flying across the keys, the look on everyone’s faces. Relief that none of the other missiles hit. Then Havenrock. The numbness. The Fear. What had she done. No one was supposed to die. Oh God! What had she done.  _

           She doesn’t think, just reaches for the phone. She knows he’ll pick up, even if he has to work tomorrow. 

      “Is everything okay?” She knows she should tell him yes, doesn’t have it in her tonight.  

      “Can you come over? I don’t want to be alone.” Silence greets her and for a minute, she thinks she’s asked too much of the new found peace they have. Minutes pass and she thinks he’s hung up. 

      “I’ll be right there,” he says instead, and now the line disconnects. She sighs, leans back on the couch. 

      “Stupid. Felicity, this was a stupid choice.” She could hardly call him back now though. She knows he’s already left the lair. Is on his way to the loft. 

           The knock comes five minutes later. She walks to the door, looks up into his sea blue eyes, and falls apart. It’s easy to fall apart with him. He knows too much, has seen too much. He gathers her in his arms, those big strong arms. Arms that have hurt, yet are nothing but gentle with her. 

         “Hey, hey, Felicity, what is it?” He asks, voice tender. 

         “I….I...can’t...sleep. All those people.” The last is said on a whisper. The arms she’s wrapped in pull her closer so she’s burrowed against his hardened chest, the soft sweater hiding all the strength below it. Then she’s lifted in the air. 

           He walks to the couch, her still in his arms. He rocks her, as she lets the pain pour out of her, soaking his t-shirt. His hands run over her hair, down her back as she cries and cries. 

          “Why couldn’t…..why couldn’t we….” Her words are lost in sobs. Oliver doesn’t think, puts his lips to her hair. Rubs her back. 

           “There was nothing we could do,” is all he says, as he continues to stroke her back as she cries harder and harder still. He knows her pain, what she lives with in her head. He should have pushed, but instead pushed her away. 

            By the time her tears have stopped, Oliver’s shirt is soaked. Felicity, is sleeping, her legs wrapped around him, her head on his chest. He lays her back against the couch, wraps the blanket up around her. He watches her sleep for a minute, then walks to the table by the door. His smile is a bit sad as he pulls out the always handy note pad there. She used to use it to write him little notes before going to work. He quickly scawls out a message, lays it on the coffee table for her to find when she wakes. He wants to stay, knows it’s not his place to. He leans down, kisses her forehead, lingers a bit, then walks out of the home they once shared. 

            Felicity blinks awake, hours later. 

        “Oliver,” she calls out, but the empty apartment doesn’t answer back. She reaches towards the coffee table, finds his note there. 

“Any time you need me. Call me. I’ll be there.

               -Oliver.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for Reading. Kudos and Comments welcomed.


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